Heaven Sunder
by Tilthanial
Summary: Given an offer she cannot refuse, Risty joins up with a warrior from an organization known only as the Guild in searching for an ancient weapon.
1. Templar

**Author's Note:**

This piece is set in the years before the Queen's Blade tournament, back when Risty was younger. I'm not trying to mess with the canon (which I don't have a full grasp on) all that much, so there won't be too many other characters in this piece. If you note any glaring canon discrepancies, please let me know.

The intro chapter is intentionally short.

~'~

He didn't like it.

The wind whistled as it whipped through the trees and against his face, drying his skin and setting his ears on fire. It wasn't that the weather was too cold. He relished the cold. But the wind played havoc with his tracking. Paying attention to the ground proved hard when he had to fight to even stay on his feet. The dismal overcast didn't help either. At midday, the sun would have proven quite helpful.

But he had to settle for this. This shitty game trail in the middle of a mountainous forest with little to no vegetation and game. His main comfort was that he needed to continue for only one more day before he reached the town.

Had she known about this? The weather? Was that what had convinced the firehaired bandit to take the unnecessary and arduous detour into the Falleen Woods? To throw him off the scent? The longer he spent in the woods, the more he wondered. She couldn't possibly know that he was following her. He had left no tracks, kept his distance to the point that he barely held her trail. Every precaution that came to mind, he took it. It made the tracking much slower and more frustrating, but he knew the trouble paid off in the end when he caught her.

Caught wasn't the right word. He had business with her. Maybe not the most pleasant business, and certainly not something that she would welcome with open arms. If anything, she might take to it in a rather unfriendly manner. Battle-unfriendly.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that. Every mercenary and guardsman in the land had heard of Risty the Benevolent Bandit of the Wilds and her huge…mace. Every region around the Vance lands had tasted of her mischief. She robbed lone travelers, groups, and even caravans when the pickings were ripe enough. How she did it while working solo was something he still didn't understand.

"Eh, frack me," he muttered, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "You think the cold'd slow her down a little."

The only time he had allowed himself close enough to steal a glance had come at the last village before the forest. The bandit traveled light, both in gear and clothing. She didn't have any cold weather clothes. Not even a blanket. The lack of foresight struck him as odd. A seasoned bandit such as herself shouldn't be going around unprepared.

Or maybe she could handle the weather just fine. He could, but he counted himself as a special breed. He had yet to meet another man who could brave the elements in the same way he did. His scalemail and deerskin pants did little to protect him from the cold. He would have been warmer in his cloak, but the damned thing was too long for a forest this thick. After two hours of it catching on roots and thorns he had stuff it in his pack and forgotten about it. Sleeveless never bothered him. Hell, it wasn't even snowing. Piece of cake.

As hard as it was to follow her tracks, he could tell that she was losing ground. The bandit did not appear to be in a hurry. Her breaks came evenly and leisurely. Not the stop-to-catch-one's-breath breaks, but the oh-there's-a-spring-let's-take-a-bath breaks. She had left a scarf at one of the springs. He kept it tucked around his glove, intending to return it as a sign of good faith.

By the time the clouds passed over and the wind receded, the sun had retreated behind the mountains. Trading darkness for darkness. She would be stopping for the night now. Not more than an hour ahead. If he wanted to, he could catch up to her now. Then again, waking up an infamous bandit from her sleep in the middle of a giant forest never worked for anyone.

He decided to not wake her, but that didn't mean he had to let her go. As he settled into a notch in the rocks above her sleeping body, he realized there was a much better way to wake her.


	2. Terrors

_Risty leapt from the tree, bearing down on the unsuspecting Vance guards like a hawk. She landed on top of the carriage with the grace of a cat, eyes darting this way and that. The two sentries stood at opposite ends of the camp site, keeping an excellent watch on the boring trees that hedged the road. The fools should have been watching the treetops, not the treetrunks._

_ Grabbing hold of the side rail, Risty swung down to the door of the carriage. It opened without so much as a squeak, and she was in. Slipping into the utter darkness of the interior, she sat down on the driver-side bench and started feeling along the bottom for cases._

_ What luck! Her hands found a small but heavy jewelry box. Bringing it up to her eyes, she squinted and examined the engravings on the box. _Claudette. _What a stuffy name. These nobles sure loved their stuffy names._

_ It was small, but it would be enough. Risty unslung he knapsack and put the jewelry box inside. Once she was back at her treehouse she could crack it open and see just what treasures were inside. What kind of baubles did a noble brat own? She couldn't wait to find out._

_ It took more effort than it should have, clambering back up to the top of the carriage. Once there she laid as flat as she could on the roof and checked the area again. The sentries stood as oblivious as ever. All she had to do was jump back to the tree and make her way to safety._

_ She stumbled a little as she stood up. Her budding body still bothered her, upset her balance. How wonderful it had been to be slight. Nothing to overbalance her or give her funny landings. For a moment she sat crouched on the carriage, wondering what she looked like. Her eyes drifted to the knapsack, then to the small form sleeping next to the fire, surrounded by guards. A noble's kid. Her life had to be so easy. All the jewels and the toys and everything she could ask for. Risty wondered what that felt like, to have so much._

_ The child rolled a little too close to the fire in her sleep. A squeaky cry ripped through the night air as the kid woke to find her face within inches of the fire. The guards were up in seconds, scrambling for weapons, calling for the sentries. She snorted in amusement. Such a little baby._

_ "Hey, you!"_

_ Her disdaining sneer melted into a terrified gasp. Shit! She was sitting there in plain sight. A sentry was running straight for her, sword flashing in the firelight._

_ "Thief!"_

_ Quick as a flash, she jumped to her feet and tensed her legs. The branch was only a few feet over her head. She could catch it easily, climb the thing, and be gone like the wind. All she had to do was jump._

_ "Stop!"_

_ The other guard joined in. She couldn't help but let out a giggle. They couldn't catch her. Nobody could catch her. She leapt for the branch arms outstretched and ready to fly away to safety._

_ Even as her feet left the ground, she realized something was wrong. The knapsack weighed her down. The jewelry box was too heavy. It held her back, took away the height of her jump. She wasn't going to make it._

_ For the barest moment, her fingers scraped the sturdy branch's bark. Then the branch rushed away as she fell back towards the carriage. Her feet landed half-on a container and she tumbled to the side. Stars exploded in her eyes as her head struck the side rail._

_When her world stopped spinning she found herself staring into the eyes of two very irate guards. One of them raised his sword. She screamed._

~'~

Risty woke with a start, shooting straight up as if she had been struck. She felt her heart hammering away in her chest, thudding so hard she could scarcely breathe right. Just a dream. Just a memory.

She wiped her forehead, letting out a long sigh. Her fingers came back drenched in sweat. Her hand was shaking. Just a horrible memory.

It took her a minute for her heart to calm. While she waited, she looked around the camp site and took in her surroundings. The Falleen Forest. She was in the Falleen Forest. She wasn't the terrified forest girl in the throes of puberty. Safe. She was safe.

Convincing herself was easy. Convincing her heart and her breathing took a little longer. When she finally felt in control of herself she stood up and started gathering her things. Not that she had much to gather. She wolfed down the last bit of bread from her pack as she slung it onto her shoulder. The town was half a day's walk from here. She would be there before she started feeling hungry again.

Kneeling down beside her mace, she picked her scarf off the ground and wrapped it around the handle. She wouldn't need it now. The winds had died down and the cold didn't both-

Scarf?

Her eyes widened as she stared at it. She had forgotten it at that pool on the other side of the forest. Two day's journey in the other direction. If it wa…

_Company_.

Risty dove into a roll, expecting a sudden arrow. Scooping up her mace and shield, she came up in a defensive stance, ready for trouble. Her eyes tracked over every bit of terrain, looking for signs of a foe. Nothing. Someone, whoever it was, was hiding.

"Come out," she shouted. No sense in abandoning the place. She had no idea if this intruder had set any traps. Better to fight them here. Besides, she liked the close quarters provided by the rocks and trees. It wasn't a bad place to fight, especially with her fighting style. "Show yourself, fiend."

"Those are harsh words," a voice called out. She spun towards it, keeping her shield held high. Nothing. "Especially when I spent two days returning your scarf."

"Uh-huh, a real Samaritan you are." Her eyes narrowed in irritation. The voice was moving, but she still couldn't see the speaker. "Who are you and what are you doing following me?"

"Which do you want first," the voice teased. It was over to her right. She didn't like how quickly it moved. Pivoting towards it, Risty tried to figure out where it would move next. If she could head him off, she could jump him.

"Let's start with the who. I don't like beating the hell out of someone whose name I don't even know."

"Templar."

"Templar," she repeated, rolling the name over in her mind. She did not recognize it, but it didn't sound foreign. He was from the mainland. She was sure of that. "That it?"

"That's all you need. As for why I'm following you…"

She heard a rush of air and something land behind her. Leaping to the side, she lashed out with her mace. The man leaned back just enough that her mace missed taking his head off.

"I have a message for you."

Risty took a step back and spent a moment surveying the intruder. He was taller than her and sturdily built. His torso and legs were armored with scale-steel, but his arms were bare. Bare and corded like the steel covering his chest. The hilt of a long sword stuck out over his right shoulder, but he looked pretty confident with the spear in his hand too.

His face struck her as familiar. It was a lean face, with mostly forgettable features, except for his eyes. His eyes were a dark shade of grey, and she was pretty sure that his irises swirled. Very pretty.

And too well-armed for a mere messenger. Letting her shield drop only a little, she pointed at him with her mace.

"Okay then, creep. What's the message."

"Well, it's more of a summons." He twirled the spear suddenly, spinning it in front of her face in a blur. She drew back but he simply plunged the blade into the ground. Reaching to his belt, he opened a pouch and withdrew a scroll sealed in wax. She took it gingerly, studying the seal. A snarling wolf-head. Not a familiar emblem.

She did not read it immediately. Distracting herself in front of this still-unknown man did not seem like a good idea. How long had he been following her? The thought made her stomach queasy. She was not used to being snuck up on. It hadn't happened in a long time.

"What's in it?"

"Haven't a clue." He gave an apologetic shrug. "I was tasked to deliver it, not read it."

"Oh the joys of a mindless lackey." She huffed and took a few steps away. When he didn't take the bait she nodded towards the far end of the open ground. "Stand over there and don't disappear. I'll read it now."

He bowed his head slightly, a ghostly smile forming on his mouth. She liked the way he smiled. It was a trustworthy, if dangerous, smile.

Returning her attention to the letter, she broke the seal and examined the contents.

_Risty, the Benevolent Bandit of the Wilds_.

_Your reputation as a treasure hunter precedes you. The messenger who gave you this letter represents a very wealthy clientele who had found a business proposition for you that is sure to pique your interest. You have heard of the legend of the is a common enough legend. An ancient weapon with the power to sunder any enemy and make the gods tremble. Years of archeological enterprises have discovered the location of this powerful weapon. That is where your services are requested. This artifact happens to be in a very remote temple, far away from the reach of civilization. It is the clients' beliefs that you are the most suitable candidate to recover this weapon. Should you accept, rest assured you will be generously compensated._

_One condition: The messenger must accompany you. He knows the way and is able to protect you from any dangers that you might encounter. As the direct representative of the clientele, his decisions are to be treated with authority. Much effort has been invested into bringing you into this enterprise. Do not waste this opportunity._

_-The Harbinger_

"Eh, melodramatic much?" She tore the paper up and tossed it into the small spring. Of course she knew the legend. It was only sung of in every tavern from coast to coast. Watching the two pieces darken and begin to dissolve in the fresh water, she weighed the offer with as much experience as she could muster. Who was this mysterious Harbinger? And the clientele, that bothered her. It sounded too official, almost like a government document. A trap?

She shot a look towards the 'messenger.' He stood idly by, pretending to studdy the woods. Those swirling grey orbs couldn't be hidden. He was watching her and his body was tense. _Do not waste…_ Was her there to make sure she said yes too?

"The Harbinger, huh? You just keep getting creepier."

He looked her way, his face a mask of false innocence. Again, she appreciated the honesty in that. He didn't bother putting any effort into it.

"Your answer?"

"If I say no, what then?" She cocked her head to the side and tried to read his face. It was impossible. His eyes were too distracting, too entrancing. Shaking her head slightly to clear her head, she decided to focus on his hands instead. They stayed at his side, completely relaxed as far as she could tell.

"Then I return to my clients and start the journey over, seeking a lesser-qualified treasure hunter."

Simple, matter-of-fact. She was taken aback by the bluntness of it.

"That's it?"

"Well," he cracked his knuckles. "I'd have to make sure you wouldn't go spreading word of this, or try to go after it on your own."

"Really?" Her eyebrows twitched in excitement. It had been a while since her last real fight. Beating drunks senseless just didn't get her blood up anymore. Templar looked like he'd be a real match. "Think you're man enough to take me?"

"I don't like boasting." His mouth twisted in a frown. "Too many people do it."

"Oh, so you're a strong, silent type." Her grin took in her face. She felt her blood surging through her arms. Her palms tingled. "I like that."

"Purposeless fights aren't my thing either." He indicated his spear, still stuck in the ground. "Your answer?"

"Hmm…" She started working her mace through a lazy circle, working even more blood into her arm. "How about this. We fight now. I win and I get to pick whether I take it or leave it. No complaining or sending people after me. You win and I do it no questions asked."

"Sounds fair."

One second he was standing there staring at her. The next he had crossed the distance to his spear and yanked it free. Sweeping it in a flashy over-handed arc, he cleared the dirt from the gleaming blade and brought it against his side, tight to his back. His free hand drew the long sword.

"Your move, Benevolent Bandit."

The style gave Risty pause. She had never seen someone fight like that before. Spears were too heavy to use with only one hand. But he looked so at ease with it and the sword that she knew he had to be good. Excellent. This fight would be even better than she had expected.

She let out a feral cry and charged in. Using her shield to deflect a spear thrust, she rolled her other shoulder back and released a roundhouse blow with her mace. Templar twisted in and under, his feet leaving the ground as he spun in tandem with her blow. The flat of his sword smacked against her arm but it wasn't a hard or aimed blow. He had been more concerned about dodging her mace than landing first blood.

Not giving him time to recover, she continued her spin and dropped to a crouch. He had to land, and she had a perfectly good kick waiting for him. The instant his foot landed she swept it back up into the air and followed it with a shield uppercut.

He dodged that too. Offering only a heartbeat-long stagger to her kick, he turned aside in time to glance off her shield. The shaft of his spear filled her vision and she barely had time to throw her head back before it slapped across her forehead. Her vision blurred for a moment. Knowing that she was vulnerable, she lashed out with her mace and fell into a backwards roll.

Templar gave no chase. She came to her feet breathing a little harder than normal and aching, but she had avoided most of the blow. Templar, she saw, looked no worse than he had at the start. That was fine. It took more than a head bump to take down Risty the Benevolent Bandit of the Wilds.

Advancing more carefully this time, Risty skipped left, then right, then left again. Templar's spear followed her like the arrow on a compass. His sword remained back and resting against his leg. He wouldn't tire out his sword arm with useless defenses when she stood so far away.

She changed that. Knocking the spear wide with a swipe of her shield, she hollered and dove for him, swinging her mace down with deadly intent. He started to turn again, but she was ready. Adjusting her aim on the fly, she spun too and backhanded him with her shield. The blow caught him by surprise and he stumbled away, open for a follow-up attack.

Or not. When she followed he jumped up and back, flipping over her and landing beside her. His sword struck her shield as she turned and threw herself behind it. The impact jarred her hand and left her fingers numb. Gods, he was strong. Before she realized what he was doing he had hooked her shield on the barb of his spear and yanked her closer. She shoved with her mace, pushing him back, but with her shield caught it served to only pull her harder. Her feet left the ground as he fell over and she landed on top of him.

For a moment she locked eyes with him. His beautiful grey eyes seemed to glow with the same excitement that she felt. The hunger, the longing for adventure, it was so vivid and burning inside him that she knew she wanted to share it. Even if she won, she decided, she would go with him. Not for some stupid artifact hunt, but because he would seek out danger and conquer it. She wanted to be a part of that.

Risty choked out a breath. Letting go of her mace, she cocked her fist back and winked. "Good night, Templar."

The flat side of his sword hooked around her throat. It pressed up and into her chin, forcing her head up and leaving her staring at the trees. She tried to punch but she missed. His other hand trapped hers against his side and he moved. Rolling them both over, he ended up on top of her with one arm trapped and the other half-numb out to the side. The blunt edge of the sword remained pressed against her throat.

"Yield?"

"In your dreams, lackey."

She mustered all of the strength that she could in her shield-arm and swung at his head. It wasn't much, but even the weak smack of her iron shield was enough to topple him over and remove the sword from her throat. She rolled away from him, wincing as her shoulder popped, and came to her feet. She picked up her mace and stood waiting for his next move.

Templar came to his feet slowly. He rubbed the side of his head and shot her a rueful grin. Then his eyes flashed like flint and she found herself defending against a flurry of sword attacks. It came high, low, high high high low, left, high, left, low, low… and on and on. The power in his blows jarred her shield-arm with each block, and she felt her entire arm going numb. She had to get him off of the attack.

Retreating suddenly, she broke away and rushed for the rocks. He paused only long enough to recover his spear. When he charged, he charged hard. The sword was back in its sheath. It was spear time. Great. She knew how to fight spears like a dwarf knew how to forge. Climbing a boulder, she kicked off and came down with a shield-splitting overhead chop.

But he wasn't there anymore. He was… then he was a good foot to the side and sweeping his spear across her feet. The thick shaft cracked against her ankles and her world spun. Flipping a half-turn in the air, she found herself looking at an upside-down Templar's boot. He kicked her midair and she flew backwards. Her body smashed against the rock and she collapsed in a heap.

"Okay then…" His kick had caught her in the stomach, knocking the wind clear out of her lungs. She staggered as she came to her feet. "Now I'm mad."

His only response came in a predatory smile.

Holding her shield close to her body, she attacked with every other option she had. She struck with the mace, she kicked, she even caught him in a head butt and she attacked with everything she had. He remained on the defense with his spear. He mostly deflected and blocked with an infuriatingly strong and flashy spinning style. The head butt got him though. It knocked him back a step and left him open for a solid kick to his knee that dropped him to the ground.

She planted her foot on the back of his neck as he started to rise. Applying pressure, but not grinding his face in the dirt, she looked down at him and laughed. Her voice dripped with undisguised glee.

"Yield, lackey?"

"Are you kidding? I could mkhmmff alffsh deehh" His voice was muffled by the ground. Risty leaned in closer to hear him.

"What?"

"I said," he twisted his head suddenly. Her foot slid off his neck and she found herself out of position. He reached up and hooked one arm around her right leg and the other punched her left ankle. Weakened already by the spear blow, it buckled. He flipped her onto her back and rolled on top, keeping her right leg pinned up and across her chest. The position left her entire left side trapped. Shifting on top of her, he caught her free arm and twisted it behind her back, leaving her truly and inescapably pinned.

"I could do this all day," he told her. His brow shone with sweat and he had a hefty bruise forming across his face from her forehead. Despite that his eyes still burned with that captivating fire. Risty sighed and let herself relax. She wouldn't mind going with him at all. "Third time's the charm?"

"You win," she murmured. A yawn stole its way out of her mouth and she winked up at him. "But next time I ain't playing so nice."

"Next time, I'll actually put some effort into it."

He pushed off the ground and helped her to her feet. Their noses bumped for a moment as she found her balance. He smelled good. Like the outdoors, and leather. Choosing to ignore the impropriety, she leaned in and sniffed his armor. She recognized the smell of the dye.

"Eh, that explains it." She took a step back and crossed her arms. "You're from the Guild."

He gave her a lazy blink. "I am of the Guild, but this is not Guild business."

"I thought Guild-fighters worked only for the Guild."

"When on contract." He held up a finger to quiet her and started climbing the rocks. A minute later he returned with a loaded pack. Her eyes lit up when she saw the edges of a thick cloak sticking out of the top. "But Guild-fighters are allowed to pursue their own pleasures from time to time."

"So, you're on vacation then?"

He laughed softly and motioned toward the woods. "Come on, Benevolent Bandit. We've got a nice hike today. Best use the time while we can."

"You can call me Risty." She held out her hand. He shook it firmly.

"Vic Templar."


	3. Bad Luck

Templar stopped in front of the door. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the stench of vomit and sweat pouring out of the tavern. Day laborers.

"What's the matter, lackey?" Risty nudged him with her elbow. She had a crafty smile dancing across her lips. "Not used to hanging out with us commonfolk?"

"Eh, you've obviously never had to do any Guild training before." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm just curious if lighting a fire would cause the building to explode."

"Oh, maybe. I wouldn't advise trying it. Come on, I'm thirsty."

He led the way inside. It was midday so the tavern was mostly empty. A few out of luck workers sat in groups around some of the larger tables, but apart from that there was only one other patron. A short and heavily armored man sat at a corner table, nursing a foaming mug. Templar's eyes scoured him in the space of a breath. An oversized warhammer leaned against the wall. The head of the weapon was as big as his head. He could imagine how powerful it was in the right hands. Judging by the weathered appearance on the man's face, it was.

The man glanced up at him and Templar felt something crawl up his spine. It wasn't a hostile glare, or even a curious one. It was a calculating one. Sizing them up. He was some kind of bandit or mercenary. Then he realized the man was only looking at Risty. A bounty hunter.

Sidling up next to Risty, he slipped into a chair and rapped the table to get both the tavern keeper's attention and Risty's.

"Trouble," he muttered. She cocked an eyebrow.

"Where?"

"Bounty hunter, maybe. The surly one in the corner. He's got his eye on you."

Risty half-turned as the tavern keeper sent a little boy their way. Using the boy as a pretense to look in the man's general direction, she ordered a drink. Templar took spiced wine. When the boy scurried away she turned back and shrugged.

"Could be. Maybe he's just enjoying the sights."

"The…" Templar tried to not huff. "Yet you don't seem bothered."

"Men are mindless," she quipped. "If I took offense at every dick-brained oaf that took a gander at me half the continent would be dead. I mean, come on. These aren't exactly your average stock, Templar."

He let his gaze wander as she ran a hand over her breasts. Why not, if she was inviting? They bulged against her clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination.

"I'm sure the cut of your attire has absolutely nothing to do with it either."

"You're cute, you know that." She grinned and slapped his shoulder. "I think I'll keep you."

"I don't know," he took the drinks from the boy and set them on the table. "I bite."

"I'm sure I could tame that." She lifted her mug. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she winked at him. "Let's see if he really is a bounty hunter."

Before he could stop her, she clacked mugs with him and called out in an overly loud voice. "Best haul yet, eh? Those guards didn't stand a chance."

Templar hesitated for a moment only before falling into the ploy. She drained half of her mug in a single gulp, but he took a careful sip.

"The Vance's sure are generous. A whole carriage-load with only three guards. It's like they wanted us to take it."

A chair scraped loudly in the corner. Templar set his mug down and glanced over at the armored man, now standing and approaching them with warhammer in hand. Yep.

"Want to share in the joy," he asked, waving the man over. The man snorted and pointed at Risty.

"There's a bounty on your head, bitch."

Risty's mouth quirked in a tight frown. Templar saw a flash of rage in her eyes. She stood up slowly, taking her time, and turned to face him. Her mace and shield were ready.

"I have a name, lowlife. Risty the Benevolent Bandit of the Wilds, and don't you forget it."

"I know your name, sure enough." The man cackled and tossed his warhammer over his shoulder. He pointed dramatically. "The bounty's big enough that I can't help but know your name."

"I warn you, many have tried to claim that bounty." She did not look worried. In fact, she looked a little too at ease. Her body swayed slightly from side to side as she spoke. As if she was preparing to dance. "Ain't a man born under the sun that can bring me in."

Templar studied the man carefully, taking in more now that he stood in the open. The bounty hunter was older, in his later mid-years, and had such a wrinkled face his features were nearly lost. His eyes seemed mere pinpricks of malice as he spat at the ground.

"I've already caught you," he said. Bringing his hand back, he grasped the bottom of his warhammer's shaft. The position made for a fast first strike. "The hard part's already done."

Templar looked from Risty to the bounty hunter. She could handle him. He looked experienced, but she was in excellent shape and had a solid form. Besides, the warhammer lined up better with her style.

"Caught me?" Risty laughed. "All you're doing is talking. I'd hardly call that one and the shhhame."

Templar's ears pricked at the slur in her voice. His eyes shot back to her face, and he recognized the danger instantly. Confident as she was, her eyes were blurry. And the swaying was much more pronounced. He grabbed her mug and sniffed.

Lavender. The man had somehow gotten spiked her drink. His nostrils flared in distaste and he rose, grabbing his spear. Risty turned her head towards him, a perplexed scowl on her face.

"Waiiit. Whhhat are you doing shhtanding upsshide dowwww…"

Her eyes rolled up in the back of her head and she collapsed. Templar caught her and pushed her back into her seat. Her snores tickled his ear.

"Cowards use poison," he snarled. Facing the bounty hunter, whose face had melted into a wary glower, Templar brought his spear up and out in a threatening manner.

"Walk away, boy." The bounty hunter's chuckle sounded throaty and dark. "I've no business with you, only the bitch."

"You will once I take that warhammer and shove it up your ass."

That brought a gurgling laugh from the man. "Son, I'd take that spear and spank you all the way back to your momma. You're no match for a Guild Warden." He produced a whistle from a chain on his neck and blew two short notes. Three more men, clad in differing armor, entered the tavern. They were all armed and serious-looking. Templar paid them little heed. They were young. If this man really was a Guild Warden, they would be initiates. Not a danger to someone like Templar.

One of them stopped short though, mouth dropping open in shock. "Warden Templar?"

Templar shot the man a quick glance. Fresh faced , blonde hair, a long and pointed nose. Initiate Sollen. He knew that one.

"Sollen."

"Warden… he's Warden Templar?" One of the others hesitated and looked to the bounty hunter. The bounty hunter, for his part, appeared surprised as well. Relaxing his grip on the warhammer, he brought one hand to his chin and stroked it thoughtfully.

"You're Templar?"

"I am."

"No shit." He casually tossed his warhammer aside and extended a hand. "Warden Cain. Never had the pleasure before."

"Likewise." Templar did not let himself relax, but he returned the man's handshake. "The name Cain carries weight in the Guild halls."

"As does that of Templar."

Templar tipped his head towards Risty's sleeping form. "I apologize for the coward remark. I thought you were a common thug."

"Same with threatening to spank you." Cain let out a short bark of laughter. "I thought you were some pretty-boy lover."

"Forgiven." Templar set his spear down. He did not move out of the way though. He gave the three initiates, now standing to the side in confusion, a nod. "You're well prepared. What is this, a training mission?"

"Sort of." Cain gestured towards the young men. "I'm not so proud that I don't like accepting competent help. Especially not when on contract."

The hairs on the back of Templar's neck rose. His hand drifted cautiously to his back, feeling the bottom of the long sword sheath for reassurance.

"Contract?"

"It was posted only a few weeks ago." Cain shrugged. "Someone wants the bitch bad enough to pay the Guild's fees."

"She has a name," Templar snapped. He didn't know why it bothered him. He'd certainly had no problem using the term before. Even on Risty once, back in the day. Maybe because she was traveling with him now, or maybe because she was currently passed out and defenseless.

"Sure, sure. Risty the Benevolent Bandit of the Wilds. Lot of bullshit in that, just saying." Cain cracked his neck and studied her again, his brows furrowing even deeper into his wrinkles. "So, if you're not bringing her in then, what the hell are you doing traveling with her?"

"I'm on a job," he replied, leaving enough firmness in his tone the other Warden did not bother asking further. "And she is my companion on the trip."

"She necessary?"

Templar nodded. His eyes narrowed as he saw the subtle changes in Cain's posture. The fight was coming back into it.

"Guild job?"

He shook his head. "Private. But you know the rules. I can't allow you to compromise my job, Guild or not. If you want her, you'll have to wait."

"See, I could say the same thing." Cain sighed heavily and turned away. Stalking back to his warhammer, he picked it up and brought it into an aggressive stance. "Because right now, unfortunately, you're standing in my way. And you must know my record, Warden Templar. I always win."

"Not this time." Templar scooped up his spear and drew his sword. The initiates stood around for a moment, but at Cain's bark they drew and began circling. Templar kept his back to Risty, using her and the table to protect his back. Not ideal in the slightest. "I apologize in advance, Warden Cain. I would have preferred to meet you in a more friendly setting. Probably would have bought you a drink."

"Well, after you finish recovering, feel free to come find me back at the Guild. You can buy me one there. Hell, I might even return the favor, since I'll be rolling in gold after I bring this bi… Benevolent Bandit in."

The tavern keep rushed forward, arms out pleadingly. The day laborers had cleared out too. "No, not in here, please. Take this outside!"

"I'll pay for the damages," both Templar and Cain snarled. Neither paid the man a glance, but he scrambled back to the bar counter and began grabbing as many bottles as he could.

"Bring it."

The initiates rushed first, coming at him from both sides. Two had swords, one an axe. Templar spun in a tight circle, whipping his spear close to the floor as he did. Catching a leg of his chair on the barb, he tossed it into the face of the lone initiate on his right. Initiate Sollen. The young man tried to duck, but the seat of the chair struck him full in the face and knocked him flat on his back. Sticking his spearpoint into the soft wood of the floor, Templar leapt up and delivered a savage kick to the chest of the first initiate on the other side. He staggered back, bumping into his comrade. Templar grabbed them by their tunics and hurled them in opposite directions.

Then Cain was on him. The warhammer streaked across the tavern in a blur. Templar sidestepped and brought his sword up at an angle to deflect it rather than catch it. The head screeched as it skidded off of his blade and smashed into the floorboards. He still felt the impact shiver up his arm. Thinking to take advantage of the Warden's awkward position. Templar brought the sword in a direct line toward the man's head.

Before the strike could land Cain caught him with an elbow in the chest. The impact staggered Templar, and he let himself fall back a step. His free hand snaked out blindly and found his spear. Ripping it free at the same time as Cain, he spun the weapon in a figure eight and sliced through a strap holding Cain's greaves. The hardened leather split like butter, leaving his armor hanging loose on his legs.

"Nice," Cain quipped. He had a broad smile on his face. As serious as he was about winning, Templar realized he was enjoying the fight too. Almost as if they were sparring in a dojo. "But can you dance?"

Splinters blinded Templar as Cain smashed a chair into matchwood. Following up with a powerful swipe at his midsection, the Warden nearly broke Templar's spine. Templar barely dodged backwards. His foot brushed against Risty's. He couldn't back up any more.

Choosing to try and circle around, Templar began using every move he could bring to mind. He sidestepped, ducked and dove, leapt and spun to avoid the head of the warhammer. Cain did not fight mindlessly, but he fought with the speed of a berserker. Even his blunted thrusts were lightning fast. Templar put in his fair share of blows too, but both men had strong defenses. Neither drew blood.

Not until the initiates limped back to the fight. Initiate Sollen came first, jumping over a table and lunging for Templar's back. His warcry gave him away, and Templar simply dropped to his knees and watched the shocked man sail overhead. Falling on the man like a cloak, Templar put his sword to the initiate's throat. He barely had time to gasp out a call for help before Cain swung out with just enough reach to avoid his head. Templar leaned to the side, dragging the hapless initiate with him, and twisted around. Picking Initiate Sollen off of the floor, he held him high in both hands and hurled him at Cain. Both men fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

The other two attacked gamely, though their movements were slow and drunk-like. Templar batted first one's weapon away, then the other's. When both were disarmed he tossed his sword in the air and swung the butt of his spear with both hands. The solid end hit them both in the face. Their legs kicked out and they landed senseless side by side.

"Not bad," Templar muttered.

"…but not good enough," Cain finished. Templar turned back in a flash, spear up and ready, but the Warden stood out of reach. The head of his warhammer rested against Risty's skull. The Warden thumped his chest with his free hand in a salute. "Well fought, Warden Templar. But the numbers were not on your side."

Templar started forward, a growl rising in his chest, but the Warden lifted the warhammer slightly and shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The bounty doesn't need her to be alive, Warden Templar. Pay's better, maybe, but I'd settle for dead over nothing."

"You wouldn't." Templar spat out the words, but he lacked conviction. Why wouldn't he? Risty was a nobody to him. All he knew about her was that she was a bandit and had a handsome reward in the making. Hell, that was just about all Templar knew of her too. Were the positions switched, Templar would have probably done the same. Still, he felt he had to try. "You wouldn't kill a defenseless woman like that."

"Wouldn't want to," Cain countered. "But that's the hand that Fate dealt us, now isn't it? Stand aside, Warden Templar. I admire your reputation, but remember. I always win."

Templar reluctantly set his spear on a table and resheathed his sword. At least the Warden didn't do him the discourtesy of disarming him. Cain merely kept him at bay as he had the initiates collect Risty's unconscious body. The young men appeared quite taken with her. Templar felt his lip curling in disgust as one of them gave her ass a squeeze.

"Damn, she's got a body," the lad snickered.

Templar threw his sword in the blink of an eye. The man didn't even have time to shriek. The blade sliced through his belt, pants, and smallclothes, just barely missing his privates. Startled, he leapt backwards and curled up, desperately whimpering as he felt to make sure everything was still there.

"At least treat her with respect," Templar hissed. "She's a woman, not a piece of cattle."

Cain nodded and cuffed the man over the head. "My apologies. I promise I will treat her with every decency."

Templar let out a long huff and held out his hand. Initiate Sollen returned the blade, head bowed in embarrassment.

"Just how did you find us, anyhow?"

"Find you?" Cain snorted. "You stumbled into the bar. We got a bead on her back across the forest. I figured she was heading this way so we took the road and beat you here." He shot Templar a sly look. "Do you have a horse?"

"No." Templar did not bother lying. Cain knew that he would try to rescue Risty. If he was on the job, he was honor-bound to, if only for the sake of not compromising his job and reputation.

"We'll set out immediately then, before you can go about buying one to chase us. And don't worry about paying." He muttered something to Initiate Sollen, who went to the bar counter and counted out a dozen silver coins. Leaving them on the counter, he returned and helped carry Risty outside. "Might as well, since I won. Wish we could have met on better circumstances, Warden Templar. I'm sure you and I will get along fine once this unpleasantness is over."

Templar couldn't help but grin. As furious as he was with losing, Templar could not fault the man on any count. He was also sure that, after a few months and Cain got over losing Risty to him on the road, tempers would die down and they would be more than willing to share ale at the Guild.

That's just the way things worked, in the Guild. Work hard, party hard.

"It's just business," Templar said. Cain blinked at the famous excuse. A knowing smile creased his lips and he offered a final wave of his hands.

"See you on the road, Warden Templar."


	4. Rude Awakening

_Risty!_

_ Her mother shooed her away from the window. Stay away from there!_

_ Why, mommy?_

_ There are bad men out there, Risty. They'll hurt you if they find you._

_ But they're led by the prince. Isn't the prince nice?_

_ The prince isn't nice, Risty. Come away now, hurry._

_ Daddy says that the prince is a nice man._

_ Daddy isn't here. The prince took him away. Risty, get away from the door._

_ Someone's outside mommy._

_ Don't open the-_

"Ugh… make it stop."

Risty thought that her head would explode. The intense pressure in her skull made her want to scream, and the stomach-curdling stench of the horse's ass didn't help. She felt like she had just woken up from a long night of downing firewhiskey. Damn, but this was a hangover to end all hangovers.

She tried to remember how she had gotten here. Templar in the woods, the tavern and the surly man with the warhammer. She remembered the man. He had called her a bitch and said he would turn her in. Then… what had happened? She definitely had told him to go screw himself, but everything after that was hazy.

Settling with not knowing the answer, she decided to concentrate on the more important matter. Why the hell was she staring at a horse's ass? Even more specifically, why was she trussed up and staring at a horse's ass? She wriggled as slowly as she could, getting a feel for just how tight the ropes were that bound her arms behind her back. Her legs were caught too. Whoever had tied her knew their knots. There was a bit of give, but not enough for her to do anything with. Just enough to stay comfortable.

"Hey rider, your horse could use a bath."

At least her voice still worked. She turned her head to the side and studied the back of the rider. He was small, couldn't have been more than a young man, and dressed in light chainmail armor. A pointed nose appeared as he half-turned and offered a noncommittal grunt.

"Warden, she's awake."

Another horse wheeled to the side and came back. It stopped when she was face-to-boot with the other rider. A snarling wolfhead decorated the leather straps. She thought it was familiar, somehow.

"And how are you doing on this fine evening, missie?"

A hand cupped her chin and forced her to look up. She winced, partially because the sun was behind the man and it burned her eyes, and partially because the angle hurt her neck. He did not hold her for long though, but released her head and chuckled.

"I think the boy might have held back on the juice. You weren't supposed to wake until dusk."

"You poisoned me?" She huffed. "Sneaky bastard."

"Take it as a compliment. Otherwise you'd be tied up and sporting a half-dozen bruises and cuts. I'm sure you'd prefer it this way."

"Oh, sure." She tried to roll onto one side, at least so she could stare back at him, but her rider put a hand on her back and held her flat. "Because my pleasure is clearly what you're thinking about."

"Money is what I'm thinking about. It was much more efficient to drug you than engage in a full-on battle. These initiates bruise so easily."

Her rider stiffened, and from what she saw his face reddened. He turned a little more as the horse shifted, and she saw he had a nasty black bruise across his forehead and left eye.

"Looks like you already got that bruise."

"Yes… your companion fought hard for you."

Templar? She craned her neck to examine her surroundings. There were two other riders. She didn't see him. Why was he not there? It didn't make sense for them to bring her along and not bring him as well. They were traveling companions, after all. Certainly, he could be mistaken for a member of her and at the least.

"Where is he?"

"Oh, he's probably chasing us as we speak." The man raised his hand and gestured down the road. "So, pardon the abruptness, but we need to put some more ground between us. We put you on Sollen because his ride is the smoothest, but you're probably going to be sore by the time we make camp. I apologize in advance for that."

Risty sneered as the man returned to the front. The riding resumed, and Risty soon found herself wishing she was unconscious again. The horse wasn't a spirited one. The ride was actually quite smooth. But lying across a horse's rear meant that she experienced every step and bump with vivid impact on her ribs. It hurt like hell.

When the leader finally called them to a halt, she could barely breathe. Her rider, Sollen, helped pull her off the horse and set her down. They did not leave a guard on her. She couldn't have run even if she had been untied. Risty found herself doing little more than concentrate on her breathing as they pitched camp in a well-hidden site stuck behind a mess of boulders.

It wasn't until they had a fire going and were cooking that she realized she was hungry. They had not brought her over to the fire, so she sat there quietly watching the flames. Rabbit. She smelled rabbit. A poor meal, but she did not feel choosey. Sollen came over after they had eaten their fill and spoon fed her. It should have bothered her. She didn't like feeling so helpless. But Sollen didn't gloat. He just fed her and returned to the fire.

It didn't look like they were going to untie her for the night. Risty rolled back and forth to smooth out the dirt under her and tried to get comfortable. The guard went up in the rocks, sneaking into a crevice that protected his back but let him see the entire clearing and the road. Damn. She had considered trying to free herself, but even if she did, he would see her long before she could do anything.

She had a long night ahead of her.

The leader came over to stand beside her. He didn't give any kind of greeting or warning, he just grabbed her shoulder and shoved her onto her stomach. The ropes binding her yanked and pulled as he checked to make sure they were still intact. When he finished he rolled her onto her back and went on to check on the horses.

Risty watched him walk away, squinting her eyes as she tried to pick out the insignia on his cloak. Snarling wolfhead. Templar had worn that, right? That meant her captors were Guild. The knowledge intrigued her. She waited for the man to walk past.

"I didn't know that there was infighting among the Guild," she called out teasingly. "Which one of you is the renegade?"

"Neither, lass." The man shifted his direction and stopped by her side. Crouching closer, he cocked his head to the side and looked at her. "Just a temporary conflict of interests."

"Is that what they call it these days." Risty grinned wolfishly. The man didn't pursue the topic.

"You disappoint, Risty the Benevolent Bandit of the Wilds."

"Oh, how so?" She stuck her tongue out, a very girlish move, but one she had found pissed off most people just the same.

"The bounty on your head made me think we were hunting an experienced, mature woman. You're just a little girl playing thief."

"_Just_ a little girl?" She couldn't help but laugh. "Let me out of these ropes and I'll show you why I've earned that bounty."

"Not likely. You're not getting free until I hand you over and collect the bounty."

"About that… you know that it's not going to happen, right? Templar's going to catch you guys and kick your ass from here to the sea."

"Oh really?"

The man had a guttural laugh, somewhere between a guerilla's hooting and a dog's bark. She didn't like it. It made her feel dirty.

"He already tried that. Clearly, it didn't work."

"Uh huh, I bet you did real well. I mean, it was only four of you assholes." She bit her lip as she ran the battle through her head. "Let's see. You drugged me, so you fight dirty. You outnumbered him four-to-one, but I doubt that was troubling for him. I'm going to take a wild guess and say you cheated somehow. It didn't end fairly."

The man shrugged. He patted her cheek in a patronizing manner and stood up.

"Fair is for the weak, lass. All that matters is that I won. Enjoy your rest while you can. I have a feeling this is the best you are going to feel for quite some time."

Risty hissed at his departing back, but she had to suppress a shiver at the confidence in his voice. Maybe he had beaten Templar in a fair fight. If Templar was hurt, would he really be able to help her out? She suddenly felt very unsure, and it terrified her. The last time she had felt so helpless was…

"No," she growled. Steeling her nerve, she concentrated on the feel of the rope against her skin. It was only rope. With enough time, it could break. That's what she would do. She would fight and resist as long as it took.

Besides, if she gave in and slept now, the nightmares would come back.


End file.
